


an angel led me (when i was blind)

by icedmachinery, icemachine



Category: Doom Patrol (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:46:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23236429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icedmachinery/pseuds/icedmachinery, https://archiveofourown.org/users/icemachine/pseuds/icemachine
Summary: It is only after the Negative Spirit releases them from the painting that Larry realizes he owes it an apology.
Relationships: Keeg Bovo & Larry Trainor
Comments: 3
Kudos: 29





	an angel led me (when i was blind)

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: buttercup (ingratitude)

It is only after the Negative Spirit releases them from the painting that Larry realizes he owes it an apology.

The realization feels like a sharp pain - a dig at his organs - as if someone has ignited every cell that composes him, as if he is on fire once again, burning once again, in the Spirit’s mercy, once again, always burning, always experiencing a reincarnation of that event - stuck - stuck—-

it hurts. 

But the Spirit did save his life. 

He doesn’t know if it did so willingly. The Spirit saved his life; this is a fact, this is a constant. He lives in constants nowadays. He lives in everything - in every aspect of the universe - nowadays.

He had a life before the Spirit, but the Spirit also had a life before him. Did it love? Did it have family—-home—-- _ love?  _ Does it miss its old life, above the planet, soaring through reality, anomalous, unpredictable, ethereal? Does it even remember? 

Larry is used to death, is used to transforming into graveyards. The first graveyard: his old appearance. The second graveyard: his old life, John, Sheryl, his children—-all gone, all lost between the years. The third graveyard, the lucky number, lies in the Spirit’s metaphorical heart—-he no longer resents it. Embraces it, instead. Cowers in his room—-wonders if the Spirit can sense his thoughts now, wonders if it knows how everything has changed between them. 

Larry Trainor sheds his old hatred in the form of bandages. Watches them fall to the ground, like rainfall. The bandages fall like Larry fell from the skies when he Became this, when the Spirit entered his essence. He stares in the mirror and tries to scry, to gaze within, to see the Spirit again, wants to face it—-and for a moment he can almost see his own eyes glow into a blinding white, like confirmation.  _ Yes. I know. I do. _

He confronts it, thinks about watching the Spirit fly and flutter above the lake when he lived with Rita, alone. The three of them, harmonious. They made it to twenty seconds, and they can make it longer, and eventually he also realized that making progress with the Spirit brought him  _ joy— _ -a purpose, a  _ final and ultimate  _ purpose.

It is his. The Spirit is  _ his. _

“I should’ve said this earlier,” he whispers. “I should have listened.” His throat closes—-he chokes, but forces the words out still, slow and low and soft. “When I hated you, I was selfish. But we’re… something better now. We’re different. And I am so sorry for projecting my self hatred onto you.”

He continues staring into his own plain eyes. For a moment there is a flicker of a blue shimmer across his face, reminiscent of so long,  _ so long  _ ago—-

It feels like  _ thank you.  _ It feels like rebirth.

**Author's Note:**

> wow a happy larry fic????? in MY me??
> 
> hmu on tumblr: keegbovo.tumblr.com  
> plz kudos+comment if enjoyed


End file.
